


A Place Called Home

by Cattew22



Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Genre: But only a song from the musical, Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, Christmas In July | Christmas Out Of Season, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Prisoner of War, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattew22/pseuds/Cattew22
Summary: Everyone knows Colonel Hogan misses his home so much around the holidays. Somehow came up with a Christmas story in July, but it works. Please read and review, but most of all, enjoy. Also, yes, this is a song fic, based off of the song by the same title as this fic from A Christmas Carol the Musical, but you don't need to know the song to enjoy the fic.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	A Place Called Home

**Author's Note:**

> So somehow I just wrote like the sweetest Christmas story I've ever written... in the middle of July. The title and lyrics are from a song called A Place Called Home from A Christmas Carol the Musical, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IeT-h-ffG94 , which along with Hogan's Heroes I do not own. Please read and review, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Also, in terms of The Jacket, I WILL be continuing that story, but lately I've found very little time to write. I wrote this story at midnight, as it is, ha.

_There’s a place called home_

All of the men knew that at that time of year when the snow was worse than ever and the guards were cheerful and merry, that Colonel Hogan was to be left alone. He joined in the joyful singing and partook in the heartwarming gift swapping the weeks leading up to Christmas, but on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, he holed himself up in his office and no one, not even the Kommandant, disturbed him.

_I can almost see, with a red front door, and  
A roaring fire, and a Christmas tree._

He generally could be heard humming a certain tune, none that the men had ever heard before, but one that was sweet, and wistful, and ever so quiet, yet it could be heard across the compound if his window happened to be open.

_Yes, a place called home_

None of the men asked about it, and the one time Shultz had naively brought it up, Colonel Hogan retreated into himself and gained a sad misty look that told anyone watching that he was thinking of a small home in Cleveland, Ohio, with a home-cooked turkey on a small wooden table in the middle of a large kitchen, with the biggest fireplace lighting up the room.

_Full of love and family,_

Every man wrote home at this time of year, whether it be to loved ones or close friends (or even each other when they got truly sentimental), but only Colonel Hogan would send the equivalent of what looked like a novel (and a pain for the Germans to censor) to his mother. It was no secret that his father had passed not too long after Hogan was shot down, and that they only had each other ever since then.

_And I’m there at the door  
Watching you come home to me._

It was also no secret (for the rumour mill was as alive as ever, even at this time of year) that Colonel Hogan spent half of Christmas Eve staring wistfully out his window, waiting for his own novel in return from his mother, along with that ever treasured photo that replaced the small one he kept in his front pants pocket every year, of a smiling Mrs Hogan standing in the snow in front of a lovely home that warmed the heart of everyone who saw it.

_Through the years  
I’ll recall this day_

Every man, during the night before Christmas, also dreamed of finally coming home and greeting those who eagerly awaited the end of the war and the return of their loved ones. And every man wished for themselves that joy of spending Christmas with siblings spilling into their laps and presents under a bright and green tree taller than the barbed wire fence surrounding Stalag 13.

_In your arms  
Where I finally found my way_

But no man wished it more for themselves than they did for their commanding officer, wishing just one year to give the man that had sacrificed so much (and who would undoubtedly continue to do so until the Russians or Americans plowed down the front gate) the ultimate present.

_To a place called home  
And a life for two_

They wanted to see the strong man who seemed to melt as soon as it began to freeze to get one more Christmas (sooner, rather than later) with his sweet and caring mother, the same one who sent them extra chocolate when she could and who knit scarves for every person in Stalag 13 one year, prisoners and Germans alike.

_You’ll have everything  
You could ever want_

And all Colonel Hogan wanted was to see his family just once more, to be in the loving embrace of his mother even for a second, to allow himself one more chance to be nothing more than her son, before going out and leading his men into the violent storm called espionage.

_All I want is you_

And that’s all he wants.


End file.
